Some words set in motion a mood for bed. I catch myself in a
half alive silence- just the noise of the fan running devotedly, cutting the hum
of the air conditioner. It’s a constant reminder of how blessed we are to sleep
comfortably every night.
I close my eyes, slip quiet hands under my soft, old t-shirt
and draw faint circles on my stomach. I like my stomach. This void makes me
feel whole.
I sleep next to Maa these days since Papa isn’t in town. I
think my mother is her most beautiful a few minutes before she falls asleep.
She lies down after a hard day, puts one leg over the other, her arm over her
eyes and breathes deeply. I hold her Bandaid-ed thumb and wish it gets healed
soon. I wish I could just press it and give her my good health. But she has
pressed my hand first and given me some of her sleep so my worry deserts me
for the night.
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